Reunion
by WaitingForNoExit
Summary: After four years, the Winchesters are excited to see each other again. The backseat of the Impala becomes a perfect place for a reunion. Wincest. Set during 'Pilot'.


"So you're my bitch, right?"

Those five words shoot straight to Sam's cock, the younger Winchester attempting to wriggle away from Dean, although the Impala definitely hampers that movement. The twenty-two year old is pinned to the hood of his brother's car, and the only thing going through Sam's mind is that this is one hell of a greeting; it's been what? Four years since they last encountered one another? And now Sam's being held down against the hood of a car older than either of them, his brother's crotch pressed flush against his ass, the feeling almost foreign compared to what he's had since he left.

It's not a bad thing, though; it's far from bad, and Sam finds himself shuddering as Dean's lips find the back of his neck, mouth pressing to the skin there as the hunter speaks, driving his hips forward simultaneously. "It's been years, Sammy."

"I know," Sam manages to breath out, giving up on getting away and slumping against the Impala, well-aware of the fact that they're about twenty feet from the apartment and if Jess looks out the window, he can kiss his apple pie life goodbye. "M'sorry…"

Sam's been sucking Dean's cock since he knew what a cock _was_, and those blowjob lips of his haven't been put to any good use since they last parted ways; Jess doesn't exactly have the requirements necessary for the type of training Dean's been giving his brother, and they both know it's a shame. Sam knows especially that he's missed this; without a moment's hesitation, his cock is pressed to the front of his denim jeans, straining against the fabric like he's going to bust a fucking nut if Dean doesn't do anything, but it's obvious as hell that Dean's missed this, too, and Dean is going to take his sweet time if it kills the both of them.

Dean bites Sam, teeth digging into the skin on the back of the college kid's neck, and it's familiar, and kinky, and Sam flares up almost immediately, growling out something about Jess and being caught and shit Dean really doesn't care about. He shakes his head, pushing Sam over again and twisting a hand in that brown hair of his, the stuff he's let grow out at college. "You look like a hippie," Dean said with a snort, shaking his head and kissing the bite mark that's burning on the back of Sam's neck now. "If Dad could see you…"

Sam twists around in Dean's grip, and for a moment Dean pins him down harder before something clicks and he lets go of Sam's wrists, the man flopping over onto his back on the hood of the Impala and grabbing Dean's face, squishing it between his hands and pulling Dean down on top of him, the metal underneath him groaning at the weight of both grown men. Dean kisses Sam as hard as he can, until he tastes copper and iron on his tongue, and even then he continues, the kiss almost painful. Hell, it _is_ painful, his lips growing red and bruised from the contact, and vaguely, they both know that they should try to at least hold out until they can get off the street and into a bed.

But the Winchesters were never romantic; once you were fucking your brother, there was really no way to fit romance into that equation. And they'd done it in worse places, places where people knew they were brothers. A bed could wait. Sam needed contact of the filthiest kind, and he needed it _now_.

Sam manages to pull away from Dean, although it takes every ounce of strength that he has to keep himself from lurching back up and kissing his older brother on the mouth as hard as he physically can. They stare at each other for a few moments, Dean's green eyes meeting Sam's, and there's a tense moment where neither of them are sure what to do before Dean grabs Sam by the front of his fruity little Stanford sweater and yanks him off the hood of the Impala, wrenching open the back door behind the passenger side and shoving Sammy in like he weighs nothing. Technically, Sam's bigger, and probably stronger, but he hasn't seen Dean in months and he's overwhelmed and submissive, and when Dean climbs on top of him in the backseat, Sam moans lowly, staring at his brother and grinding his hips against Dean's, obviously lusting after this kind of contact.

Dean grins, eyes crinkling, and for a moment Sam's focused on how much older his brother looks compared to the last time they met, but then Dean laughs, pinning Sam down and stealing a kiss, looking at him carefully. "Easy there, tiger."

Sam snorts, mostly because his brother just said the same thing to him inside the house, and leans up, teeth digging into Dean's lower lip as a bit of retribution on his part. "S'that your new nickname for me?"

"No," Dean says, driving his hips forward with a particularly hard thrust, causing Sam to paw at the window behind him. "It's always just gonna be Sammy. Because you're too much of a filthy fucking whore to be anything but Sammy Winchester."

Sam loves being treated like he's not Dean's little brother, like they're related but Dean only thinks he's a whore, not a sibling. He knows Dean doesn't think that, but in these moments, where Dean has his thick cock pressed to Sam's ass, separated only by a few useless layers of denim, he wishes he does. He wishes Dean thinks he's good for nothing but sex, because that's what gets him off. He moans slightly, tilting his head back and scratching at the seat, Dean keeping him pinned down. "Dean," Sam murmurs, eyes flickering towards his brother. "Why're you teasing?"

Dean grins and laughs, smacking Sam on the thigh and grinding his knee up against his little brother's crotch, the noise that leaves Sam's throat sending shockwaves to his cock. It's been years since he last heard it, and he's missed his brother because hell, they were inseparable as kids, and they grew up with this, what they're doing right now, as a way of bonding. And they haven't bonded in a while.

Dean slides a hand up Sam's shirt, ducking down and biting at his brother's neck before kissing at his ear, nosing against his cheek and speaking slowly. "I'm going to take your pants off. And I'm going to spread your legs, and I'm going to fuck you into the seat until you fucking scream. And I'm going to do it all right here, with your girlfriend like twenty feet away, Sammy."

The purpose in Dean's voice sends chills down Sam's spine, goosebumps popping up along his pale skin, his scrawny body shuddering as he closes his eyes, tilting his head to the side and letting Dean kiss along the line of his jaw. He's missed this shit like a drug, and now that he has it back, he's not giving it back up.

Dean murmurs something about lube and there's a momentary pause because even though they've just gotten started, there's no way Dean's interrupting their actions later in order to scrabble for that stupid tube of lubricant that always ends up under the seats. Sam lets out an embarrassing whine as Dean scoots away, and the older man simply smirks, digging for the lube before moving back to where he was, his brother's long, gangly legs spread out on the seat.

There's a momentary pause as Dean fucks with the button on Sam's pants, finally getting it undone and starting to pull Sammy's jeans down, his own cock still uncomfortably hard. He's almost sure he'll have the print of a zipper permanently stuck on his dick from now on, and although that bugs him, right now he just wants to get Sam's fucking jeans off. He drops them on the floor of the Impala once he finally gets them off his brother, grinning and feeling Sam up, hand running over the bulge in his brother's underwear. "Well, I guess you've grown a bit since you left."

Dean's a dick. Sam knows this better than anyone, because he's the only person who gets to see him like this, teasing and taunting and just a fucking asshole who seems to find Sam's state of arousal hilarious as fuck. The cheeky squeeze he gives Sam's cock nearly pushes the pre-law student over the edge and he jerks forward, contemplating kicking Dean in the head and fucking him in the ass for once, although knowing his brother he'd just have to put up with him pouting the entire way to Jericho, and it's totally not worth the amount of angsty Guns N' Roses he'll have to deal with on the ride down.

Sam keeps his mouth shut for once and Dean runs a hand over his inner thigh, fingers dangerously close to Sam's needy erection. He looks pleased with himself, like fucking with his brother's head like this is the greatest accomplishment ever, and spreads Sam's legs, leaning down and pressing a relatively gentle kiss to the skin right above Sam's knee. Sam snorts, twitching slightly and bumping his leg against the side of Dean's head, staring at him from where he's pressed to the door of the Impala. "This isn't _Casa Erotica 9_, Dean. We're not playing Disney princess. You want me to be your slut, treat me like one. I'm not some chick you have to seduce."

"Oh, Sammy, I love it when you take charge like that," Dean teases, hooking a finger in the taller man's boxers and pulling them down slowly, taking a moment to check out his brother's hips. He's a scrawny little fucker, tall and gangly and a toothpick, and he'll probably stay that way unless he starts working out or something, because as it is, Dean feels like he could probably snap his brother in two. He'll probably fuck him hard enough to break him, anyway, or at least leave him nice and bruised; hell, Dean kind of wants to fuck Sam hard enough to make him bleed as revenge for leaving him alone.

Instead, he leans over, kissing Sam slowly on the mouth and getting Sam's boxers off all the way, relishing the fact that he's still fully clothed and Sam's laying there with only his Stanford sweater on, although that'll come off soon enough in order to keep cum off the seats. Dean wraps his calloused fingers around Sam's cock and Sam is instantly responsive, a moan slipping past his lips as his brother works his hand over his hard shaft, thumb pressing to the tip as he collects the precum there, dragging it down the side of the mushroom head, slicking up the shaft, more teasing than anything else.

Sam bucks his hips forward, pleasure already starting to race up his spine, heart rate quickening as Dean jacks him off, the motions slow and almost maddening, leaving his hard cock aching for just a little more friction. Dean leans over his brother, undoing the zipper of his pants and pressing himself to Sam's ass, pushing his jeans off slowly and taking his time. Sam grinds down against the hard member currently flush against his naked butt, wishing clothes weren't necessary just so he could get at it already. He's not usually this slutty, not even with Dean, but he fucking _needs_ this. He needs it, and Dean's the only person who can give it to him at the moment.

Dean leans over, kissing Sam slowly on the mouth and grinding against him in the best possible way, his cock nudging up against Sam's balls and leaving his little brother gasping for air. Jess doesn't give handjobs like this, or maybe she does and Sammy just doesn't relate it because Dean's hands feel so much _better_. Dean almost snorts because Sam's got the dorkiest look on his face, biting his lower lip and looking like he's trying to concentrate, although he isn't the one doing any work at the moment. Dean plans on fixing that, but for now, he simply works his hand over Sammy's dick, kissing and biting at his brother's neck, keeping him pinned to the seat.

There's a split second where Sam contemplates shoving Dean back on the seat and just riding him to Hell and back, but he waits. He can be patient, by some miracle, and so he is, although he rocks his hips forward into Dean's grip, his brother stroking down on his cock, slowly bringing Sam to full arousal. Dean pulls his hand away after a moment, lifting the lube up off the seat and pouring some on his fingers, slipping them down to Sam's ass, ghosting over Sam's balls for a moment and smirking as his brother twitches before sliding a well-lubed digit in Sam's ass.

"You're so fucking tight," Dean breaths out, freeing his own cock from the slit in the front of his boxers and starting to jack himself off slowly, finger pressing further into his brother, Sam wincing at the intrusion; it's been a while. "God, I can't wait to get my cock in there."

Sam nearly tells him to just do it but they're going on a case soon and there's no way in hell he's letting his brother fuck him up the ass without preparation. Experience tells him that Dean doesn't give a shit if it's your first or your hundred and first time; he's not a gentle lover, at least not with Sam. Sam's not a girl so he doesn't have to be romantic, or intimate; he can just lay him down and fuck him halfway unconscious. And Sam really won't protest.

Dean adds a second finger to the equation and Sam grabs Dean's shoulder, his free hand pressed to his mouth, as though that'll keep the volume down in the long run. They stare at each other for a few moments and Dean cocks an eyebrow, pushing his hand forward and making goddamn _sure_ his fingers press against that bundle of nerves inside Sammy, the look of surprise and complete_ pleasure_ that washes over the younger man's face completely fucking worth it. Dean does it again and this time he gets a shuddering moan from Sam, the shaggy haired college student looking overwhelmed because fuck, he's forgotten that Dean knows exactly how to work him. For Dean, riding Sammy is like riding a bike, and he's not going to forget how to push his brother's buttons anytime soon.

Sam instinctively spreads his legs, his neglected cock oozing precum as he tries to get Dean to jack him off, keeping his hands away from his dick; Dean's in control here, and Sam accepts that. But he's close to breaking, and if Dean doesn't fucking do _something_, Sam will stop being so submissive. Sam knows that in the years they haven't seen each other, he's not the only one who's been aching for some cock, and he knows that given the right opportunity, Dean'll spread his lily white legs and let Sam pound him into the mattress.

Now, though, they're in the Impala and although Sam's tired of waiting, making Dean stop now would be fucking stupid of him. He swallows, running a hand back through his hair and grinding his hips down, forcing Dean's fingers further, trying to angle it so his brother's fingers are hitting his prostate, hooking one leg around Dean's waist and letting the other sprawl out on the seat, cocooning Dean closer.

Dean gives Sam a look, and Sam automatically knows what he's about to say, even as he leans over, pressing his mouth to Sam's ear and speaking in a low tone, snarky and taunting. "I'm not fucking you until I hear you beg for it, Sam."

Sam sneers at his brother, childish and almost pouting as he pushes Dean's face away, not exactly enjoying the smell of cheeseburger that's currently on his brother's breath. "I'm not begging for it, Dean."

Dean pulls his fingers out abruptly, hands leaving Sam's body as he leans forward, breath ghosting over his Sam's skin, maddening and right fucking there, and Sam swallows, Adam's Apple bobbing visibly. "Dean, you can't just leave me like this."

"I can," Dean says, tucking himself back into his boxers and looking at Sam before starting to climb into the front seat of the Impala, leaning over to turn a Rush cassette on and barely glancing at his little brother.

'Fly By Night' fills the car and Sam stares at Dean before dragging him back by the collar of his jacket, pressing his mouth to his brother's ear and speaking in what he hopes is a threatening tone. "Dean, you either fuck me or I _make_ you fuck me."

Dean smirks, leaning over and kissing Sam slowly on the mouth as he hops into the backseat again, pushing Sam's legs up and spreading his legs. "That's not begging, Sam."

Sam looks his brother square in the eyes and his face softens, all fight completely leaving him as he murmurs, "Dean, I want you to fuck me."

"I'm sorry, I can't hear you, Sammy. What was that?"

"Dean, I want you to fuck me," Sam says in that stupid high-pitched voice of his, and Dean grins because he still sounds like a little kid, although he knows he isn't much better. "I want you to fuck me so badly."

"You've been waiting for it, huh?"

"Yes," Sam hisses, and it's apparent that he's not longer playing it up for his brother; he wants this. He fucking _needs_ this. He feels filthy but there's no denying that he wants Dean to just fuck him into the upholstery. "Dean, I've needed you for years… please just fuck me."

Without saying another word, Dean pours some lube onto his fingers, pressing the tip of his cock to Sam's ass, pushing in slowly, taunting, but eventually burying himself inside the other man fully. Sam shudders and gasps because Dean isn't huge but he's _big_ and Sam feels fucking full as shit, spreading his legs a little to make it easier on himself.

Dean's not having any of that, and as soon as he's balls deep in his brother, he pulls back out, only the tip staying inside before he slams back into Sam, sending the twenty-two year old arching up off the seat, crying out loudly. Dean's missed the sound of this as much as the sensation, and as he sets up a steady rhythm, driving into his brother, he groans, a guttural sound that hums through his whole body. Sam is grabbing Dean's shoulders, nails leaving crescent moon marks on the skin and Dean knows they'll fucking bruise, the skin breaking underneath one of Sam's middle fingers, blood welling up immediately.

"Dean!" Sam screams, the word sounding obscene when Sam says it; it's a name but when Sam cries it out like that it sounds like a profanity, lusty and willing and just wanting his brother to fuck him harder.

And Dean obliges, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the car, _Rush_ long forgotten and just a background noise, Dean concentrating instead on the gasps and moans his little brother is giving before he wraps a hand around Sam's cock. It's throbbing, aching for release, and Dean is going to give it to him, thrusting forward, ramming Sam into the door of the Impala as he jacks him off in time with his thrusts.

Sam can't calm himself down, moans spilling from his lips like water as he holds onto Dean; he's been aching for this for-fucking-ever, and he rolls his hips down, forcing Dean into him, angling so his brother will hit that spot. He does and Sam's head grows fuzzy, he looks overwhelmed, and Sam lets out a scream, eyes fluttering closed as he cries his brother's name, Dean loving the sight because it's definitely one for sore eyes.

Sammy doesn't hold out as long as he used to be able to, coming and spilling his seed over his stomach, his chest, Dean's hand, and staining the front of the Stanford sweater. He lays there, panting and unwilling to move, Dean fucking him hard and fast and unrelenting, and he pushes Sam against the door of the Impala so hard the handle leaves a print on his back. Sam doesn't give a shit about the bruises, though, and he pulls Dean into another kiss, tongue tangling with his brother's.

Dean cums with a shudder and a sigh, groaning into Sam's mouth, and the feeling of cum dripping from his ass, one Sam hadn't missed, becomes the only thing he can feel as Dean pulls out. Sam gasps for air, peeling off his sweater and trying to clean himself off, although it's a half-assed attempt.

Dean simply smirks, watching his baby brother. This was one _hell_ of a reunion.


End file.
